don't hear, feel
by diannasbacon
Summary: AU Quinn Fabray, the family screw-up, used to be the family pride. however, the death of someone close drove her over the edge and she stopped being the family pride. for five years, she'd ignored her past and went on with life. until her sister's new piano tutor, Rachel Berry came along and gave her clarity...and maybe more.
1. Chapter 1

**hey hey hey! i'm back with a new story! don't worry. this will end with a happy ending. they _will_ gallop off into the future on a unicorn with rainbows and candies. i promise. however, i have to warn you all this will be a student/teacher relationship so read at your own risk.**

**also, i wanna thank my beta, Stephanie, for being so kind and patient with me!**

**now, read, ponder and enjoy.**

* * *

Quinn sat at her desk, face half buried in her hand. An essay on what she loved the most and why. It was both an easy and difficult topic for her to embark on. At this moment, it was English she loved the most, but somewhere deep down inside, she knew better. Inside, something was roaring at her, screaming that she loved _something else_ much more. She closed her eyes and buried the roar.

There was a quiet knock at her bedroom door, announcing her sister Frannie, as she opened the door and walked in. Frannie was the perfect girl. Well, she was the perfect girl after what Quinn had done five years ago. Her father had still not forgiven her for it. From that day forward, her parents poured their hopes onto her older sister. She had always wondered why they had expected so much from her, but not from her sister.

Was it because they loved Frannie too much to put her under that pressure? Or was it because they loved Quinn so much they wanted her to achieve greatness? She never was completely sure and she never dared to ask.

Quinn swiveled her chair around to face Frannie who had taken the liberty to sit on her bed without her permission. Not that Quinn would forbid her anyway. Frannie had always told her that she liked Quinn's room more than her own.

"It's more…alive," Frannie had told her.

Frannie forced a smile and Quinn could immediately see that it wasn't genuine. "What's up?" she asked.

"Mr. Ryerson died this afternoon."

Quinn frowned at the sudden news. "What happened?"

"They said it was a heart attack. His house maid gave him mouth-to-mouth." Quinn grimaced. She had learned mouth-to-mouth when she trained with the Red Cross. Not a pretty experience. Frannie smiled wider at the grimace. "The EMTs said it was a lost cause."

Quinn glanced at the clock on her bedside table and looked back at her sister. They waited a long moment for the call.

"Girls! Dinner!"

* * *

"He wasn't even that old."

_Wasn't. _That was the thing about Russell Fabray. He reacted to friends and relatives' deaths like they happened daily. He was the same five years ago. Quinn was kidding herself if she thought that it would have changed by now_._

"She was ancient," Quinn commented. She sat at the dining table, next to her grandfather and across from her sister. Russell was sitting at the head of the table. Judy slapped the steak on top of the cutting board at the counter. Their housekeeper, Mercedes, was off today.

"Quinn's right. He was at the age when he could go at any second," Fred, her grandfather, cut in. Quinn flashed him a thankful smile. He winked back at her.

Fred took a sip of his wine while Judy whacked the steak with a mallet and Quinn felt the in and out of her own breath. Ever since the news, Quinn had been more aware of her lungs and heart and everything that kept her body going.

"Well, it's too soon," Russell said. Quinn resisted wincing at her father's insensitivity. He unlocked his phone and checked his calendar. He looked back up at his younger daughter and waved the phone around, as though she could see the calendar displayed on the tiny screen from where she sat. "Two months. He had to die two months before the showcase!"

The winter showcase at the symphony hall. Her sister's last performance before she went to college.

"Frannie will be ready. She's always been ready, Dad," Quinn said

"Of course she's ready now, but she won't be ready two months from now without no one on her. How do you think I'm gonna find someone at this time of the year? With winter break and everything," her father ranted.

Quinn fingered the napkin in front of her and listened to the steak sizzling in the pan at the stove. She hung on for approximately two seconds before the faintest of smiles appeared on her lips. It was also a joke for her to expect her mother to come to Frannie's defense. Fred nudged her discreetly with his elbow. He knew what she was up to, he always did.

"Russell, it's a showcase." Fred took another sip. "Not a competition. Frannie will do fine."

Fred must have forgotten that the word "fine" did not exist in their family vocabulary. If you were a Fabray and you were supposed to be an expert in something, you better do it way better than _fine_. Fine was synonymous with mediocre. Of course, Fred wouldn't remember that because he wasn't actually a Fabray. He was her mother's father, after all.

"Even if it's _just_ a showcase," Russell mocked with a pointed look at her grandfather, "Frannie needs to pull off her best performance since it's her last one. God knows who else would be able to go up on stage and perform again." That last sentence was meant for Quinn. Quinn knew it. She chose not to say a word. "I'll start looking tomorrow. There has to be someone."

Quinn sighed and couldn't believe she was going to say what she was going to say. "Maybe Frannie needs a break. Some people do, you know. They take breaks. I've heard that she's been doing well so far."

Not that she'd know. She hadn't heard someone play in five years.

Russell shot her a look and pursed his lips. "Quinn, I'm sorry, but you're not actually the first person I'd turn to for advice on this matter."

Oh great, check it out; yet another indirectly negative message meant just for her. Was it remind-Quinn-of-her-failure day? She didn't remember receiving that memo, or she would have prepared herself. She should have learned to just shut up by now.

"Russell…" Quinn waited for her mother to continue; perhaps even mount a minor defense in her honor. But it was just that. Nothing more. Of course.

"Do you want me to set the table, Mom?" Frannie asked, already standing up. Quinn knew she was just trying to diffuse the tension.

Quinn sighed and pushed herself to stand. She didn't want to sit there and let her father send her messages any longer. "I'll help," she muttered.

They laid out everything on the table religiously. Spoons. Forks. Knives. Wineglasses for the adults. Normal glasses for the children. Plates. No dessert dinnerware at all. Generally, Quinn wouldn't have minded. It was a routine her father had set long ago and it was her job to follow it. It would be nice though, if occasionally, her family could be one of those _order-in-pizza-day_ families because the children deserved it or the mother was too lazy to cook. But no, nope. Steaks for everyone.

Quinn helped her mother lay some of the food on the table in a neat row, and then stood behind to her sister as she waited for her mother. She laid her chin on Frannie's shoulder and smiled when she smiled.

"Funny. I'm taller than you," she croaked. "And you're 18."

Frannie laughed soundlessly. Quinn always wondered how she did that. "You're too good, Quinn," Frannie said quietly.

Quinn kissed her sister's cheek in gratitude. "Are you sad that Mr. Ryerson died?"

Frannie shrugged the shoulder opposite the one Quinn was resting on. "I don't know," she whispered. "Are you?"

Quinn didn't know Mr. Ryerson that well. Every time he came to their house, he would go straight to the piano room. A room that Quinn never went near. "Kinda reminds me of Grammy," Quinn whispered, lowering her head so her eyes would be covered by Frannie's shoulder.

That was enough to end their little conversation. Suddenly, Judy was calling out to help lay out the rest of the food and sit at the table. Quinn watched Frannie very properly put the napkin on her lap and make sure her elbows were off the table. She was always so well mannered. So proper. So Fabray. All her life, Quinn had never known Frannie to go through the rebellious phase most teens went through. Quinn had hers five years ago. Frannie was always just the good girl. The golden one.

Every day, Quinn would wish that Frannie would just be a normal teenager. Her teenage years were coming to an end. She deserved to at least be allowed to make inappropriate jokes, or hang out with friends, or just laugh for ridiculous reasons at least once in her life.

In their house, childhood, like grief, was an episode merely tolerated. It was viewed as an inconvenience and an obstacle to the real work of life: proving to the world and to yourself that you weren't just an organism made of particles taking up unnecessary space.

So Frannie was stuck here. In this house. With that piano and an overbearing father breathing down her neck. Quinn remembered when she was the one who was stuck. She wasn't sure she would ever want that again, and she certainly never thought that it would now be Frannie's turn

The arrangement was odd, and felt a bit backwards to her. It was supposed to the older sibling messing up and then the younger one would bear the pressure of not making the same mistakes. But her father was rigid; her mother was a Stepford wife. Her grandfather couldn't do anything. Her grandmother died.

She flapped her napkin out dramatically, just to make her sister smile.

Maybe it was a good thing she was such a perfect kid. It left her free to screw things up for both of them.

And lord knows how much she'd messed up.

* * *

Frannie never came into her room early in the morning. Today she did. Which meant she overslept again. Quinn leaped out of bed and took a _really _quick shower. Her sister was on her bed waiting as she came out and walked into the closet.

"What kind of day is it today?" she called from the closet as she stared at her clothes.

Frannie hummed. "Go with grey. Take an umbrella on your way out."

Quinn hummed in return and pulled on a grey blouse with the top three buttons unbuttoned, matched with a pair of pale blue skinny jeans. She ran out of the closet, shoved everything on her desk into her backpack, kissed Frannie hurriedly on the cheek and rushed downstairs.

She went into the kitchen and saw a salad plate with a BLT sitting on the counter. Her housekeeper clicked her tongue at her and tapped the counter repeatedly. She grinned gratefully at her. The bread hung off her teeth as she gave Mercedes a thumb's up and then rushed out to the front door where her father was waiting for her.

"I'm not even going to say it," Russell said, his voice thick with annoyance as he opened the door, throwing Quinn her set of keys.

"You could've just gone yourself. I don't mind driving out alone," Quinn said.

"I like going out with you together," he answered.

It was sort of heartwarming to Quinn that he still waited to leave with her, just to keep up with this tradition. When she had first gotten her driving license, she asked him if they could drive out together so he could watch over her until they went their separate ways. He had agreed, and they continued as the years passed.

"I don't wanna make you late for work!" Quinn exclaimed. Her car beeped when she pressed the button on the key fob.

Russell gave her a look over the top of his car and then shook his head. "Just drive, Quinn."

Quinn stayed behind him as they headed out to the streets. When they were about to turn to their respective directions, Russell raised up a hand so she could see it from behind. She raised her own – he always said he could see it but she wasn't too sure – and then she turned right after he drove straight ahead.

She didn't care that she was already two minutes late. She couldn't function without caffeine in her system. She pulled up outside of Lima Bean and came out three minutes later sipping from a Venti Americano, and then she broke just about every traffic law, making it to her school in five minutes.

She skipped out and almost forgot to lock her car before running in. The hallways were empty and she groaned in frustration. Her running steps echoed in the hallways as she ran to her first class of the day which she was already ten minutes late to, English. Hopefully, Miss Avery would understand. Quinn was the teacher's pet after all.

There had been a random Tuesday, and Miss Avery had been droning on about some obscure Dylan Thomas poem that no one comprehended. Quinn had made a comment that she couldn't remember now if she had tried, but it seemed to make Miss Avery happy. At the end of the class, Miss Avery gifted her a personal copy of the Thomas book.

"In thanks for saving this hour from total pointlessness," she'd said.

She started hanging around her room whenever she didn't feel like having lunch or when she had a free period. They would sometimes talk about poems, books, or anything else that was on their minds. Other times, they would just sit in their own corners and doing their own things.

They were friends.

She opened the door as slowly as she could; wishing so hard that the damn door would do her a favor and _not_ creak this time.

_Please, please, please, please, _she mouthed and managed to slip through the space she had made. She grinned triumphantly and gave the door quiet thanks. Luckily for her, Miss Avery had her back to Quinn, allowing her to successfully slip into her seat without making so much of a noise.

"Miss Fabray," Miss Avery said with her back to her. Quinn's eyes widened. Shit. "Nice of you to finally make an appearance. Should I feel honored?"

The rest of the class snickered at her. Quinn sighed and shrugged. "Maybe."

Miss Avery turned around then and strode towards Quinn, stopping abruptly in front of her desk. "Maybe?" she asked, both eyebrows raised in disbelief.

Miss Avery was very young for a teacher. Quinn wasn't exactly sure how old, but figured it couldn't be much more than twenty-seven. Quinn had come to the realization that English was her current favorite class because she had a crush on Miss Avery. It wasn't that big of a surprise because Quinn had experienced similar cases before.

Older. But not too old. Attractive. Gender didn't matter – which was also one of the reasons she was the family screw up.

The blonde smiled innocently at the teacher. "Well, I overslept because I stayed up late to complete the essay you assigned to us." She pulled the papers from her backpack and handed them to Miss Avery. "There, all done."

Miss Avery flipped through the essay, scanning the words before her eyes returned to Quinn. Quinn did not relent. Miss Avery finally sighed and shook her head, but Quinn's grin grew wider because she could see a hint of smile tugging on the corners of Miss Avery's lips.

"I do hope that you won't repeat this again in the near future, Miss Fabray," Miss Avery quipped as she walked towards her desk at the front of the classroom.

Quinn couldn't help but stare at Miss Avery's curvy bottom. She cleared her throat and nodded. "I'll try my best, Miss Avery."

Damn, her ass was something.

* * *

Miss Avery asked her to stay after the bell rang. When everybody was out of the class, she beckoned Quinn to her big desk at the front. She looked at Quinn with concern.

"Quinn," she addressed Quinn. "Is there a problem at home?"

Quinn blinked and she cleared her throat. "Nothing. I just…my sister's piano tutor passed away last night and it got a bit messy because there's this showcase at the end of next month and…you know," she drifted off with a sigh. "I'm sorry for being late. I'll work on it."

"Really?" Quinn nodded. "I'm sorry for your loss," Miss Avery then said. "I'm letting you off the hook this time, Quinn. But I really hope there's no next time."

"I'll work on it," Quinn said again.

Miss Avery smiled. "I'll write you a pass for your next class." See, one of the many reasons she liked Miss Avery. She could be quite forgiving. Or maybe it was just for Quinn.

"Thanks."

When Quinn was on her way out, Miss Avery stopped her again. "The piano thing," she began with hesitance, as though she were walking into a minefield. "Didn't you play piano before?"

Quinn was surprised that she didn't faint or do anything drastic at the mention of her past. Her awful, family-image ruining past. She merely smiled with a shrug. "I don't do that anymore.

* * *

Quinn sat at lunch with her regular group of friends, consisting of her best of best friends, Santana Lopez, her girlfriend, Brittany Pierce, and the resident bad boy of the school, Noah Puckerman. They met each other in preschool and had been friends ever since.

Sometimes, Puck's best friend, the quarterback of the school's football team, Finn Hudson would join them. The only reason he would join them was because he was trying to court Quinn. It wasn't working really well in his case. He wasn't stupid, but he wasn't smart either. He was just dim in some departments and Quinn just couldn't get into him. He could be kind of endearing at times and Quinn would sometimes enjoy talking with him.

Today, Finn was already at their table when she arrived. His face lit up like a puppy with a bone. Quinn grinned at him, sitting across from him and next to Santana, who was sharing a bag of Dorito's with Brittany.

Quinn didn't have many friends. She had tons of numbers saved in her phone but most of them were merely acquaintances. Some of them would text her to ask about homework or invite her to parties and that was that. They didn't talk about boys or life or anything special.

This group of people was special to her. She could talk about almost anything with them, except one particular thing. And they knew that they should never bring it up unless she did it herself.

"Mr Ryerson died," was the first thing she said once she sat down. She pinched open the edge of her milk carton and drank from it. They looked at her in curiosity and shock. "Said it was a stroke or something."

"So what's going to happen to Frannie's showcase?" Santana asked.

"My father's looking for a new tutor," Quinn answered. "I believe Frannie's going to make it anyway with or without a tutor. She's amazing already." Quinn looked at Santana to see that she was going to say something but Quinn's raised eyebrow stopped her. "I _know_ she'll be amazing."

The subject was quickly dropped and they moved on to other subjects. Brittany's cat was sick. Santana's father got a promotion at the hospital. Puck's pool cleaning business was going well. Finn found a job at Breadstix. Quinn hoped he wouldn't say anything stupid to the customers while he was there.

After school, Quinn drove to Lima Bean and picked up an apple pie and coffee. She drove back to school and went to Miss Avery's classroom. She wasn't surprised to see that she wasn't there. She was probably somewhere chaperoning club activities. She put the apple pie and coffee on the desk and scribbled a note.

_Good afternoon. Sorry that I was late today again. I'll bet you this pie that I'm on time tomorrow._

She considered drawing a winky face but took a moment to consider her mediocre drawing skills. With her luck it would probably turn out looking like a face suffering from a heart attack. She instead capped her pen and stuck the note to the pie and left.

Crushing on a teacher. Kind of pathetic.

It was a pretty good day so far.

* * *

Until it wasn't.

Quinn couldn't hear her father's knock. She had her headphones in and the volume was turned up pretty loud. Avicii's _Wake Me Up_ was blasting in her ears when she saw her phone light up next to her pile of homework. It was her dad.

She didn't bother to answer. She paused the music and unhooked her headphones. She opened the door to see Russell glaring at her with his phone to his ear. She tried to smile at him apologetically but he didn't respond. He just strode in without invitation at all. Rude. And very him.

His tie was loose. His dress shirt's sleeves were rolled up to the elbows. It was obvious he didn't have a very good day at work. She told herself to try to not piss him off any more than she had today. He stood akimbo while she slipped back onto her bed.

"What's up?" she asked warily.

"Tell me what's it like to have a stroke."

She blinked at him rapidly and then released a soft laugh. "What?" He raised an eyebrow at her. Yep, she totally inherited it from him. "Dad, I don't know what a heart attack feels like, because if I did, I probably wouldn't be here right now."

He closed his eyes and expelled a harsh breath. "I'm asking you because you took some EMT classes with that friend of yours during summer break. Is it really not possible to save someone from a stroke?"

"I don't know. I just took a few and most of them involved minor cases. But some strokes are…salvageable, I guess." Quinn winced at her wording. But her father was making her nervous. "I don't really know."

"Why didn't anyone call us right away?" his father muttered.

_Like you called me about grandma?_ Quinn didn't say that out loud but she was still angry at her parents and her grandfather about what happened. She clenched her jaw and shuffled on her bed to keep her temper at bay. She didn't bother answering him because that question wasn't intended for her. It was rhetorical.

A moment passed and Quinn saw something flashed through his eyes. "You can't call Will," she snapped. He looked at her in surprise. "I don't care who you find, but William Schuester is _untouchable_."

William Schuester – or Will – was her Mr Ryerson. Only less robotic and not sour or scary. He was a mentor as well as a teacher; like a cool uncle. A cool uncle Quinn had no doubt she had disappointed.

"Who are you to tell me what I can or cannot do?" Russell snapped in return.

"Dad," Quinn whispered in disbelief. Russell glared at her while Quinn just stared. She wouldn't dare glare at her own father. "You can't call Will." Her voice was quivering.

"We'll get somebody," Russell finally said, the edge in his voice almost gone. He stopped to touch her head on his way out. "You should dry your hair before you go to sleep."

"I like it natural."

"It's look so much be-"

"I like it natural," Quinn stressed. She jerked her head away and shifted back a foot or two.

Russell gazed at her for awhile. Quinn didn't know what lurked in his eyes – _her_ eyes – but she could very well feel the sadness and disappointment emanating from him. She heard him bade a soft goodnight before closing the door behind him.

Quinn looked up and saw the photo of her playing on a dimly lit stage hanging by the door. It was the Loretta Himmelman International in which she placed seventh. It was a prideful achievement for a ten-year-old kid. She wasn't even sure if she was a kid at that age. All she remembered was how tired and old she felt. Her mind was probably more than a thousand years old by now.

That whole week, though, had been a dream. They had gone to Salt Lake City and stayed at this classy hotel – her grandfather, her mother, Frannie and Quinn. Her father was in Beijing at the time. They had egg rolls and waffles for breakfast. They drank hot chocolate. Maybe it was the friend she had made there, Katie. Or maybe it was the lack of her father's anxiety over every trivial detail. Maybe it was her adoration for the piece she was to play. The Rhapsody in B Minor. Her mother wanted her to play something showier. Her father had almost fired Will Schuester for it. She and Will wanted to show everyone that she could pull off being expressive as well as technical.

That week had felt like the last time she had been truly happy. She placed seventh. Her father was proud but his anxiety grew; his need to win at everything expanded. He applied pressure on both her and Will. She placed top three in all the competitions she participated in since then. But the sense of accomplishment was gone when she landed her fifth championship.

It kept on until her grandmother died. She was twelve.

Quinn tore her eyes away from the photo and focused on completing her homework for the next half hour before packing up her backpack. She turned off the lights and laid on the floor next to her bed. It was her and her grandmother's thing. Laying on the floor at night and staring up at the ceiling and listening to the other making up ridiculous stories and just be there by each other's side.

She drifted off to sleep.

"_Lucy Q, you are gonna be the most beautiful and talented pianist in the future. Just remember what Grammy always tell you: don't hear; feel."_

* * *

**that review button is hungry. why don't you feed it with some reviews? tell me what you think? **


	2. Chapter 2

**Rachel Berry graces this story with her appearance in this chapter. there's some sizzle and fizzle here and there. once again, i promise. there's gonna be a happy ending at the end of the road.**

**response to reviews**

**miralinda: ha! with Rachel's appearance, i think Quinn's done with Miss Avery ;)**

**LaurenKnight13: her grandmother's a big part of her reason for leaving the piano world, yes. more to come.**

**now, read, ponder and enjoy.**

* * *

By the time the weekend had come, Quinn's parents had already accepted that Mr. Ryerson was dead and gone, and it wouldn't do them any good to keep complaining about it. Quinn spent the week watching her father prowl the internet, looking for a suitable tutor for Frannie. She also noticed how Frannie seemed to be more relaxed this week than she had ever been before.

Quinn was curious and anxious and every day she wanted to ask her parents what was going on but she kept quiet. She knew her father wouldn't approve of her slipping an opinion in. She had lost that right five years ago. Of course she had an opinion; she wanted what was best for Frannie. She wanted someone good. Not just musically, but emotionally as well. She wanted Frannie to have someone to look up to.

However, her family had no reason to listen to her. So she kept her mouth shut and holed herself up in her room doing homework whenever she could. She was working especially hard on the assignment Miss Avery had given them for the week.

They were studying short stories. Drabbles. Each student had to choose a writer. They had to read at least five of the writer's stories and then write a paper based on the body of work. It would account for a big chunk of their semester grade and Quinn wanted to impress Miss Avery. It was the thing she was best at, next to piano – which she didn't do anymore. She chose J.D. Salinger.

She had always adored Catcher in the Rye.

When she came home from school on Friday she locked herself away in her room once more, to continue her Salinger note taking, when Frannie came in with a book in hand. Quinn stared at her as Frannie smiled.

"Can I read in your room?" she asked.

Quinn couldn't refuse. So she nodded with a sigh. "As long as you're quiet," she said and then swiveled back to face her desk.

She heard her sister lounging on her bed and paid no mind to her. She had a paper to complete. In every paper Miss Avery assigned, Quinn always tried to find the perfect balance of sounding smart without coming off like a know-it-all. She didn't want to become Jacob Ben Israel 2.0. He was the kind of guy who sprinkled his paper with such a wide array of vocabulary that it sounded like complete bullshit when he read it out loud in class.

He was also the biggest gossip in school. How that came about, she had no idea.

"Do you think Mr Ryerson went to heaven?" Frannie suddenly asked. Quinn barely jumped before she turned her chair to face her sister. "Quinn?" Frannie called after a long minute of silence.

Quinn blinked and shrugged. "Sure, why not?"

"Does that mean you believe in heaven?"

"I don't know."

"Then why'd you say that he went to heaven?"

Quinn raised a brow. It was something that her sister could never do despite the fact that they shared the same blood. "I didn't," she deadpanned.

Frannie licked her lips and sat up on the bed. Quinn resisted rolling her eyes. "What about grandma?"

The younger Fabray looked down at her fingers. Her smooth and slender fingers. She hadn't touched a key in so long. She swallowed. "I don't know, Fran. She never talked about that kind of stuff."

Silence ensued. Quinn played with her fingers. Frannie stared at her. Quinn tried to not think back to the memories she shared with her grandmother. Frannie was probably feeling guilty for springing the question on her.

"I think they got somebody," Frannie finally said.

It took no more than two seconds for Quinn to understand what she meant. "You've been talking to someone, Fran?" she asked with a frown.

"No."

"I don't think they'll hire someone you haven't met," Quinn said. "I think Dad at least respects you that much as his daughter."

Frannie released a sardonic scoff and shrugged. "I guess."

Quinn frowned at her. She'd never heard Frannie used that tone before. At least not in regards to their parents. "What is that supposed to mean?"

The elder Fabray flipped a page of her book and shrugged with a shake of her head. "Nevermind."

Before Quinn could pursue the subject further, Judy came in with a smile much too bright and much too fake. She was wearing a dress too fancy for the usual dinner. "Why so fancy?" Quinn questioned, despite already knowing the answer.

"We're having company for dinner. I'd like you to dress up, girls."

"Did you find someone?" Frannie asked before Quinn could.

Judy looked at her eldest daughter. "We're still considering her. We'll see how it goes tonight. Now, get dressed. We don't want to keep our guest waiting tonight."

Quinn knew she was silly to expect Frannie to protest, but she couldn't help it. She wanted her sister to stand up for herself. She wanted her to tell their parents to shove it up their asses. She wanted Frannie to tell them that she could do well on her own.

Instead of protest, Frannie only nodded demurely. She remained quiet, sweet and complicit. She closed her book, got up and went out the door, leaving Quinn and Judy alone. Quinn stared at her mother while her mother stared at the photo hanging by the door. Mr Ryerson's death meant nothing. Decisions were made the usual way: Russell Fabray steamrolling over everyone with Judy Fabray's aid while Grandpa Fred stood on the sidelines and let them do their thing.

_Play this piece._

_Wear this dress._

_Be on your best behavior._

_Don't disappoint me._

_Hold your head up. _

_You know who you are._

She knew who her father wanted her to be. It wasn't the same thing.

She found herself unable to shift her focus back to the paper she was working on after her mother left the room. Her mind was clouded with frustration and sadness.

It wasn't right for them to force things on Frannie. This tutor could be the nicest person on the planet and it still wasn't right. Like how they forced the piano on her and made her play this and do that. Until she felt like her world was on the brink of explosion. Until her only source of balance stopped breathing. Until quitting felt like the only choice she could make herself.

* * *

Half an hour before the new tutor was due to arrive, Quinn typed the last word of her paper and saved it before closing the laptop lid. She then locked her bedroom door behind her and undressed as she walked into the en suite bathroom, leaving a trail of clothes behind.

As she stood under the shower head, the water beating down gently on her skin, she couldn't help but feel that this had been what her parents had been doing to her five years ago; beating her gently. Only it didn't soothe her like the shower. They beat her to a pulp. They beat her down to make sure she would be unable to stand up for herself until her tipping point happened.

She spent fifteen minutes blow drying her hair as she stood naked in front of her dressing table. She surveyed her body. She had abs. She had breasts the average size. She was tall. She was beautiful.

So why was she still feeling so mediocre and small? Why was she still feeling as if she didn't deserve anything or anyone? Why?

She finished drying her hair and proceeded into the closet. She put on a set of modest underwear and pulled on a simple light blue dress with a white bolero jacket over it. She styled her hair into a simple ponytail, letting her fringe fall across her forehead. She checked the mirror.

Quinn felt her younger sister instincts kick in. She was going to judge this tutor very closely. And if Quinn didn't like her, she'd definitely not hold her opinions back. She had personal experience. She wanted what was best for her sister.

_Time to face the music_, she thought to herself.

She laughed at her own stupid joke.

* * *

Voices came from the foyer. Quinn could already imagine her father standing there, looking dashing and stoic in his dress shirt and jacket and khaki pants, with his hair brushed back. A glass of wine in his hand – always a glass of wine.

Quinn sneaked into the kitchen first to look for Mercedes. Seeing Mercedes had always kind of kept her grounded. With exception of her grandmother and maybe her grandfather, Mercedes was the only person she could talk to. Normally, Mercedes would be off early on Fridays but there was no way her mother could become a gourmet cook with just a hair flip.

Instead of Mercedes, she saw two frazzled young men and a red-haired woman in an apron hustling around the kitchen. She frowned. When did they hire three cooks?

"Q, you shouldn't be here," Mercedes quipped as she appeared out of nowhere with a big bowl of salad in her hand.

Quinn raised a brow at the housekeeper. "Caterers, really?" Her tone was skeptic and judgmental.

"It was my idea," Mercedes answered and gave Quinn a ridiculous look. "This tutor your folks invited is a _vegan_. I didn't even know that's actually a thing until your mother came to me two hours ago. I had absolutely no clue what to make. Hence, the caterers." Mercedes released an aggravated sigh. "She doesn't even eat _cheese_, Q."

"A new challenge for you. Good," Quinn quipped and Mercedes playfully glared at her. "The food you make is delicious and I wasn't sure if there was anything you couldn't do. Now I know."

"Should I take that as a compliment?" Before Quinn answered, Mercedes waved her hand in dismissal. "Never mind." She tilted the younger girl's chin with a finger and smiled endearingly at her. "You look beautiful, sweet cheeks. Now scuttle before your father comes looking and goes all gorilla on you."

* * *

Quinn was unsurprised to find everyone down in the wine cellar. It was Russell Fabray's pride and joy. He had collected wine dating as far back as the 1700s. There had never been a time when he hadn't shown a guest the wine cellar. Of course he would keep up with the tradition.

Their backs were to the staircase so they couldn't see Quinn coming down the stairs to finally join them and _face the music_. Quinn stifled her humorless chuckle. She could easily spot the stranger at the front of the crowd. The tutor was particularly short – shorter than even Frannie. Quinn wondered if this woman was even in her twenties with her height. However, Quinn could not deny that her legs seemed to run for miles from the hem of her skirt.

Quinn swallowed and walked pass Fred, who was standing to the very left of the party, to approach her father. She tapped her father's forearm while he rambled on about how he started collecting wine. He paused abruptly and turned to her. Then, for the first time in a long time, his smile seemed gentle and loving. She wondered if it was an act. He squeezed her in his arms and she kissed his cheek.

He turned to the tutor with his arm looped around Quinn's neck. "Miss Berry, this is Quinn, my youngest. Quinn, this is Miss Rachel Berry."

"Nice to meet you, Quinn. Please, call me Rachel," Rachel greeted with a warm smile and shook Quinn's outstretched hand.

Rachel Berry was tanned. She had dark brown tresses flowing over her shoulders and back. Her eyes were brown and warm and surprisingly not hostile. Quinn often found strangers hostile whether they meant to be or not. Her nose was uniquely matching to her facial features. Rachel Berry most certainly wasn't a common beauty. She was exquisite.

Their hands fit.

_Oh…damn_, Quinn cursed herself inwardly as she felt warmth gathering in her stomach.

Not another one.

Russell had gone into the depths of the wine cellar to find more 'special' wine to introduce Rachel. Judy, Fred and Frannie followed. However, Rachel stood behind with Quinn. There was an awkward silence stretching out. Quinn tried her very best to not look at the stunning and _much older_ – she reminded herself, or so she presumed – tutor standing next to her.

"So Quinn," Rachel began, "do you still play?"

Quinn was slightly taken aback, which she really shouldn't. The world was quite small. Surely the stunt she pulled five years ago would have gone across the piano-verse like a wildfire. But to still have it on someone's mind after five years? She never expected that.

She shook her head with a small smile. "No."

"For fun, I mean," Rachel elaborated. "For yourself."

"No," Quinn repeated.

Rachel's brows were furrowed at the answer she received. Quinn just shrugged and sipped from the glass of red wine her father had handed her before. Normally, she wouldn't be allowed even a drop of alcohol, but this was a special occasion. She brought the glass down to see Rachel still looking at her in confusion.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Quinn asked.

Rachel released a breath and shook her head. "It's nothing," she muttered. "You look beautiful," she added with a kind smile.

Quinn ignored the flutter in her chest and nodded. "Thank you."

They didn't tear their eyes off each other until Russell's voice came booming from one of the aisles in the racks of wines. Quinn snapped her gaze from the tutor and grinned at her father. She pretended to listen to her father's boring rambles, twirling the glass stem between her fingers slowly.

She was so relieved when her grandfather came to her side and quietly asked if she wanted to go upstairs. She agreed and wrapped her arm around her grandfather's waist while he did the same and they walked upstairs, her father's voice drifting off as they walked further up.

Mercedes was reading the newspaper at the kitchen island when they finally reached the top. Her eyebrows shot up when they saw the two of them sitting opposite her.

"Can I help you?" she asked cautiously with her eyes narrowed.

"Nothing," Fred said. "It's just…we've heard the speech for the billionth time and my ears were just gonna fall off."

"And what are you doing here?" Mercedes asked Quinn.

Quinn smirked and put the wineglass on the island top. "He's annoying."

"Quinn," Fred chastised; the smile left on his face was telling enough. "So what'd you think of the tutor?"

She played with the stem of the glass and lifted her shoulders in a shrug. "So far so good." There was a pause before she asked, "How old is she?"

Fred frowned and stared at his own wineglass. He was thinking for her. The adults in her life didn't normally care much for her except for him and Miss Avery. She appreciated them very much. Fred then twisted his mouth to the side, his beard wrinkling in effect.

"I'm not sure. But I vaguely remember your mother mentioning that she is in her early thirties."

See? Much older. God, Quinn had got to stop with this odd fetish of hers. Being attracted to people older than her wasn't how she imagined her love life.

"Do you think she'd be good for Frannie?"

"I'm not so sure yet."

"You know, she told your father that Frannie should play more video games."

Quinn choked on her wine and dropped her glass down on the table. Fred gently patted her back as she sputtered while Mercedes pretended to be deaf to their conversation. Not that they would have cared. They knew she would keep her mouth shut when it came to Quinn's conversations with basically anybody. Mercedes was oddly loyal like that.

When Quinn finally felt more relaxed, she heaved a loud breath and cleared her throat. "They let her stay in the house after a suggestion like that?" she asked with a grimace as she massaged her throat.

Fred smirked and chuckled. "I've seen stranger things."

"Like?"

"Your grandmother trying to strip dance in a dinosaur onesie," Fred mentioned.

Quinn and Mercedes nearly fell off their stools.

* * *

"A toast," Russell announced. He stood up and clinked his glass with a teaspoon. From the way he was swaying, Quinn deduced that he was at least a quarter drunk. Quinn shook her head in amusement and lifted her glass as well. She was pretty sure that she, Frannie and Rachel were the only ones sober at this table.

"To Rachel!" his voice grew unbelievably louder as he said the two syllables. Quinn grimaced and smirked at the same time. She glanced at Rachel to see her smiling a little uncomfortably. "And to Frannie."

Quinn held up her glass and grinned at her sister, who grinned back. She still believed that Frannie should have met with Rachel first, she had to admit that it looked like things would work out great. Frannie deserved to look as happy as she looked right now.

"It means you're hired by the way," she whispered across the table to Rachel. Rachel didn't look at her but the minor widening of her smile told her that she heard what Quinn had said. "Hear, hear!" Quinn said and the rest of the party echoed her sentiment.

Quinn was surprised Russell didn't burst out laughing like a drunken fool when he downed the entire glass of wine. "Anyone wants a topper?" he exclaimed. His hand was already wrapped around the neck of the wine bottle.

Quinn shook her head politely and discreetly motioned for Mercedes to bring her a glass of water. She had to go out with Santana and Brittany tomorrow. She couldn't afford to be drunk.

"Can I make another?" Rachel asked as soon as Quinn's water was handed to her. It was as if she was waiting for Quinn to have a glass in her hand. Quinn pushed the thought away. She refused to allow herself that kind of illusion.

Quinn remembered when her grandmother used to wait for her. It didn't matter if they were going out or even as simple as having dinner. Grammy would always wait for her. So patient. So kind. So loving. Quinn sighed. She wished her grandmother was here.

Rachel raised her glass of wine. Everyone around the table grew quiet, waiting for her to speak. Quinn tried to anticipate what would come out of those full lips. Quinn blinked and blushed discreetly. Maybe Rachel would say something funny and sappy.

She caught Quinn's eyes and seemed to lose focus for a moment.

"Go ahead," Russell urged.

Rachel laughed in embarrassment and broke her eyes from Quinn's to face the man. "It's a genuine privilege to be able to sit here and enjoy dinner with you. Everyone knows what a talented gene pool you've got. You've managed to make contributions with your art." She nodded at Fred. "And Lord knows how many criminals you've put behind bars with your eloquent tongue." She smiled at Russell, who beamed smugly. "Also, your talented and beautiful children." With that, Rachel glanced at Frannie and made eye contact with Quinn. "And so, here's to that." Rachel nodded at Quinn. "To music. To the joy it brings to the world. To the wonder it manifests in people."

Quinn couldn't help but be struck. Rachel sounded so sincere. Could anyone really say that out loud and mean that? She didn't have time to ponder as she suddenly found herself clinking glasses.

Russell stood up and gestured at the table for them to get up as well. "To the piano. I can't wait to hear what'll come out of it."

* * *

The piano.

There were better pianos out there than this one. But this one came with a tale. Of war and tragedy overseas and love. Quinn tuned out while her father recited the long story to Rachel. She already had the key facts _engraved_ in her memories. She tried to not roll her eyes.

It surprised her how easy it was for her to step into this room. She hadn't come near this place in so long. If it wasn't for this new tutor, she wouldn't have to be here. It also surprised her that she didn't collapse or explode when she saw the gleaming piano sitting right in the middle of the room in all its glory. This room had been the site of her personal high, high, highs and low, low, lows.

Quinn gazed at her own face in the reflection on the piano's surface. She managed to appear calm, but her heart was thumping loud and heavy against her chest. Her shoulders felt like they'd been weighted down with a thousand tons. Her hands were tightly wrapped around the stem of her wineglass. She took a small step away from the piano and looked up only to catch Rachel staring at her over Russell's shoulder.

Rachel's eyes were so concentrated on the blonde. She would occasionally nod and hummed at the appropriate times but Quinn somehow knew she wasn't really listening to Russell. Pale blush crept up Quinn's neck but try as she might, she couldn't break eye contact with the tutor. She watched the bridge of Rachel's nose twitch slightly and her teeth worrying her lip. She watched Rachel shifting her weight. Quinn merely stood there and watched without moving an inch.

Until Russell came into her vision and stood nearer to Rachel. "Care to give it a spin?" he asked after he was done expressing the tale of the piano.

Quinn blinked and looked down to her feet. She blinked more and cleared her throat quietly. She allowed a small shudder to run through her body before she rounded the large instrument to sit on the sofa at the far end of the room.

"I'd love to," Rachel said with a grin. Her voice sounded a little strained and Quinn smirked slightly, glad that she wasn't the only one flustered from what had just happened.

She and Frannie took a seat on the bench and unsheathed the lid over the keys, revealing clean white and black keys beneath. Quinn's eyes settled on them and she could faintly hear herself playing Bach in her head. Her thoughts were disrupted when her grandfather settled on the sofa next to her. Russell had taken the wingback chair, Judy perched on the arm.

They all had a glass of wine in their hands except for the two teenagers and the tutor. Quinn couldn't help but be unsurprised by the scene.

Rachel cracked her knuckles and stretched her neck. Then she stared at Quinn's sister expectantly. "So what are we going to play?"

Frannie looked blank. Usually, he was told, not asked.

Rachel pressed down on a couple of keys and her grin grew wider. "Oh, this is nice. I can feel the history." She grinned at Russell who raised his glass to her.

She launched into a Gershwin piece that Quinn's grandmother had adored during her living days. She used to request Quinn to play it for her whenever they were alone or they were just fooling around for fun. Quinn wondered how Rachel knew. Of course, there was the fact that Gershwin was one of the most renowned musicians in the world. Rachel probably whipped it out by coincidence.

Sometimes, Quinn just wanted to smack her sister in the back of the head. For a seventeen year old about to graduate high school, Frannie could be so naïve sometimes. Quinn knew that it was all their parents' doing but seriously.

She watched Rachel again.

Her left leg moved along with the gentle tapping of her heel. Her fingers, confident, glided across the keys like a professional ice skater would across an ice rink. They were flexible, thin and fine. They produced music with rich dynamics. Rachel Berry was good. Rachel Berry was better than good.

Which should do fine with Russell.

Only 'fine' wasn't in their vocabulary.

"You know this?" Rachel asked Frannie, still playing.

Frannie scooted closer and shrugged. "Um, not really."

Sometimes, Quinn just wanted to smack her sister in the back of the head. For a seventeen who was about to graduate high school, Frannie could be so naïve sometimes. Quinn knew that it was all their parents' doing but seriously.

"Play what you were working on with Mr Ryerson for the showcase," Russell suggested.

Rachel made a face that Quinn was sure only she saw. Then she smiled. "Nah, work starts on Tuesdays. Tonight's just for fun."

Quinn expected her father to say something in protest but he kept his silence. So did everyone else in the room. Rachel had cast a spell on all of them. Impressive.

"Alright, Frannie," Rachel started. She stopped playing the Gershwin and started playing the keys to some pop tune that Quinn had forgotten the name to. "How about we improvise?"

Frannie's eyes widened and she stuttered, "I don't know…I" Rachel only smiled in encouragement.

Quinn's breathing grew shallow. She swore to god that that smile could bring them anywhere. She felt nervous. It was as if she was sitting at the piano instead of Frannie, asked to be spontaneous in front of their father, the king of calculations. On the other hand, Quinn felt exhilarated and excited. She couldn't even remember the last time she'd felt anything but boredom and something akin to despise in this house. Rachel had energy and she filled the entire room with it.

Quinn took a breath and said loudly, "Come on, Fran!"

Frannie's eyes met hers and Quinn winked. _Show them_. Frannie's lips stretched into a minor smile and her fingers settled on the keys, but they didn't press down onto them.

"Go ahead, kiddo," Grandpa Fred urged. His feet were tapping to the keys and his head was swaying. Quinn was ready to stop him in case he decided to jump onto his feet and dance in his drunken state.

Quinn's leg twitched. She wanted this moment to bloom. She wanted this moment to be etched into each of their hearts. She wanted Frannie to do it. She wanted to her sister to blow everyone in this room off with her exceeding talents.

Frannie did. Beautiful music flourished beneath her fingers. Even though it didn't quite match to what Rachel was expecting initially – god knows how Quinn knew that – Frannie soon picked it up and Quinn finally recognized the song. Nicki Minaj's _Super Bass_. They'd managed to turn a pop and crude song into one beautiful masterpiece. Quinn exhaled and leaned back into the sofa.

How she wished she had a recorder on hand right now. She would record this performance and listen to it for her entire life. Her sister did it. Her sister pulled off being spontaneous perfectly. Her sister blew them all away, even Quinn herself.

If Rachel was the person she seemed to be so far, then things would probably change for Frannie. Maybe the choking grip would lessen, or finally go away. Maybe Rachel could help to manifest some freedom into Frannie's mind and teach her how to play for the sake of playing.

"Quinn Fabray," Rachel called out, loud and sudden, startling her out of her thoughts. "Now you!" Rachel lifted a hand and gestured at the piano.

Quinn pointed at herself with a brow rose. _Me? _Rachel nodded enthusiastically, her hand already back on the keys.

The younger blonde wedged her hands beneath her thighs and clenched the fabric of her dress. Frannie stopped playing and scooted off the bench to make room, her eyes alight. She actually thought Quinn would do it.

"No, thank you," she said, her voice steady.

Her grandfather nudged her. Quinn tried all she could to not snap at him. Because he was drunk and he seemed to have forgotten. "No," she repeated firmly. _No, no and hell no_. _No._

She had basically _just_ told Rachel that she'd stopped playing since five years ago. She wasn't a pianist anymore. She didn't play anymore. Not for fun. Not for herself. And most definitely not for the people in this room who were looking at her both expectantly and skeptically; especially not the two people who ruined it for her.

Quinn got up before Rachel could urge her again. She turned away from her father who staring at her with narrowed eyes. She could almost hear him saying, _Don't you know Quinn is a quitter?_ His voice would be dripping with venom and disappointment and taunt. It was a thing he did, even to the people he loved.

Fred held on to Quinn's wrist gently. "Stay, please," he whispered. Quinn looked down and she saw his eyes shimmering with apology and grievance.

Quinn felt sorry for him. Her chest trembled as she inhaled and exhaled. Then she leaned down and kissed his cheek as an apology for not doing as he asked. Rachel had stopped playing. She turned around.

"I'm sorry but I don't feel well. Have a good night. And nice to meet you, Rachel," she said. It sounded so fake. But everything about her had been sort of fake.

She was a falsity.

Quinn slipped out of the room and almost ran into Mercedes. She was standing outside. She probably heard everything that had transpired in there. Quinn fought to not break down in front of her housekeeper who cared for her so much. She bade a quiet goodnight to Mercedes and brushed past her. She took the stairs two at a time and, too far away from them to hear, slammed the door.

"_Lucy dear, play for the sake of playing. Because then and only then will you be able to feel the genuineness of music."_

* * *

**i guess Quinn can be kind of a cold hearted bitch in the beginning, but she has her reasons. we all know her way of dealing with things is running away from them. be patient, people. now, how about a review?**


	3. Chapter 3

**annyeonghasaeyo! hello! so this is chapter three. some advancement. more sparks. yada yada yada. thank you very much to my very patient beta, Stephanie! seriously, she's my lifesaver. this one has been quite the brainchild. i hope y'all like it.**

**response to reviews**

**loo: you're right. there's too little age gap faberry fanfics around here. hey, fellow writers, HOW ABOUT YOU WRITE SOME? THANK YOU!**

**gllover22: oh she'll do more than that ;)**

**LaurenKnight13: Russell has been giving her more crap than ever for leaving, but he loves her anyway. he's slightly different from the canon!Russell.**

**Izabella G.D.: oh my god you're like one of my favorite writers! thank you for noticing!**

**ThroughTheL00kingGlass: she's more than 10 years older than Quinn in this fic. i've been yearning to write something like this for awhile. **

**vignetteofcharlie: stay hooked please!**

**IloveDiannaAgron: Rachel and Quinn have a 14-15 years of age gap.**

**now, dearest readers, read, ponder and enjoy.**

* * *

It was lunch time, and Quinn wasn't in the mood to sit in the cafeteria and eat and talk with her friends. She needed quiet time. It was quite funny how a person she had only briefly met on Friday could still have such a profound effect on her on Monday. So instead of heading to the cafeteria, she grabbed the lunch Mercedes had made her and headed to Miss Avery's room.

Miss Avery was sitting at her big desk, marking papers. Quinn knocked on the door twice and smiled at her. She, in turn, beckoned her in with a friendly smile. She took her usual seat and unpacked her lunchbox. She took a book out of her bag and began reading while chewing on her sandwich.

Normally, she would have stared at Miss Avery for awhile before she started eating. Normally, Miss Avery would be too absorbed in marking her papers, or reading some book, or doing whatever thing teachers were always doing to ever notice her staring. Normally, she would have marveled over how pretty and nice Miss Avery was.

But now, she just wasn't in the mood. Since Saturday, she hadn't been in the mood to do anything. She hung out with Santana and Brittany earlier in the day, but since then she had been wallowing in her room. Her father had been too drunk the night before to remember what had transpired between Quinn and the new tutor. Her mother had tried to talk to her, but she refused to cooperate.

"What made you choose Salinger?" Quinn looked up, a little startled. Miss Avery was staring at her expectantly.

She swallowed the piece of sandwich and cleared her throat. "Um." _To impress you? _ "I enjoy his stories. He has a character of his own. The people he writes seem…real."

"I wrote a thesis on him once in college," Miss Avery admitted.

"Oh yeah?"

It wasn't her best hair day. Quinn could see she had come to school in a hurry this morning. Probably had a late night. It was probably a good thing they were a few seats apart. Otherwise, Quinn couldn't be sure she wouldn't reach out and brush some of the teacher's hair back from her face.

"Have you decided on the other four stories of his that you're gonna write about?"

Quinn gazed at her teacher's wrists. She imagined a pen in her hand and her head bowed in concentration as she graded Quinn's most recent paper. She imagined Miss Avery as a smart, popular college student hunched over her table, a dog at her feet. Then she imagined herself doing the same. Maybe English could be where her future lay. Music was out of the question. She was very interested in English. A PhD. and then a tenure at an Ivy League school. That would take only like, what, twenty years?

"Well, I've already started taking notes and writing some," Quinn told the teacher. "It's still a work in progress."

Miss Avery was speaking, but Quinn didn't have her usual intense ability to concentrate on her. Her mind was reliving Friday night and the hopeful expression on Rachel's face when she called Quinn to join them in their performance. It was as though Rachel was confident that Quinn could do better than Frannie. And maybe Quinn could – she did start playing piano at a young age and won quite a number of awards before she'd walked off stage – but she wasn't about to steal her sister's spotlight.

And she wasn't ready to lay her fingers on those marvelous keys.

Frannie had expressed her liking of Rachel during breakfast the next morning and then the decision was made. Rachel was to be her new tutor, starting Tuesday. Quinn did not speak a word. She'd walked away when her mother tried to bring up the incident between her and Rachel.

"Quinn." She was snapped out of her thoughts and Miss Avery was right in front of her. Quinn's eyes widened. "Quinn, is something wrong?"

The blonde blinked and smiled sheepishly. "Oh, uh, no. Nothing. I was just thinking about something."

Miss Avery stared at her owlishly for what felt like the longest second ever before she dragged the desk chair in front of her, turned it around and sat facing Quinn. "Quinn, you barely come in here during lunch break. When you do come here, it's usually because something happened. I told you a long time ago, if you need someone to talk to, even just to let out your frustration, I'm here."

Quinn looked down at her lunchbox, juggling the idea to tell her teacher or not. "Say," she started. "Say you have someone who…tried to drag your past back into your life unintentionally, but you just weren't ready. And yet you can't stop thinking about it. Thinking about how nice it'd be to do it again. Thinking about how it's time to face it again. What would you do?"

Miss Avery narrowed her eyes a little in contemplation. She hummed. "Well, you've got yourself quite a problem there, don't you?" Quinn didn't say or do anything in response. "I'd do it. Follow your heart. It's what I always say. Life's too short to hesitate over anything. If you wanna do it, then do it. Don't wait. You don't know what's gonna happen tomorrow, one hour later, hell, even the next second. Don't miss an opportunity over your silly little doubts."

"But it's not little," Quinn retorted.

"I'm just gonna assume this is about the piano." Quinn closed her mouth abruptly and she just stared at Miss Avery. "I've heard about you in the teachers' lounge, Quinn. I've researched you, to be completely honest. And you were…remarkable. I know it's been five years. I don't know what happened. But I'm sure you're still as talented as you were five years ago. You don't have to do it to perform in public or to compete. You can do it for yourself."

Quinn blinked. It was like déjà vu, because Rachel Berry had said almost the same thing Friday night. Quinn was flattered to know that her favorite teacher, whom she had a crush on, had done research on her.

Before she could say anything, the bell rang. Miss Avery stood up and smiled at Quinn. "I know you have a free period now but I don't. So as much as I want to stay and talk with you, you gotta scuttle."

Quinn packed her things and nodded gratefully at the teacher. "Thanks, Miss Avery."

"You're welcome. Just know that I'll be here if you ever need anyone to talk to, no pressure." Quinn was on her way out when Miss Avery stopped her. "Thanks for the pie, Quinn. It was delicious."

It was kind of sad to believe that at sixteen your best years were behind you. The promise Miss Avery had given her put a little hope in her.

* * *

By the next morning, her mood had improved considerably.

Miss Avery had loaned her a collection of J.D. Salinger stories. When she flipped through them, she saw penciled notes, underlines and a few Post-Its with comments specifically for her. She promised herself that she wouldn't disappoint her teacher with this assignment.

Quinn decided to join her friends for lunch in the cafeteria. Finn and Puck weren't there today, leaving only Santana and Brittany, who were feeding each other Cheetos. Quinn couldn't help but grin at the sight of them being lovey dovey together.

They didn't bother asking her of her absence yesterday. They knew she was a person who kept things to herself until she was willing to say it loud. Until then, they'd steer clear of her way.

When she got back home, going through the back door, the kitchen was full of sunlight and Mercedes was pulling a pan of brownies out of the oven. Quinn, being mischievous, went ahead and stole a piece before Mercedes could kick her out of the kitchen. The housekeeper was muttering about incorrigible lovable teenagers as Quinn scurried out.

"Thanks, Mercedes!" she yelled back.

She was licking her fingers clean of brownie crumbs when she walked past the empty music room, reminding her that Rachel was supposed to be here today. She poked her head in and looked around, making sure there were no signs of life inside.

She assumed Rachel and Frannie were in their father's study, checking out the vast collection of albums Russell owned. She decided she shouldn't bother them. The little tingle she felt for Rachel should vanish soon if she just stayed out of the way. She closed the door to the music room and headed upstairs.

She had just reached the top of the stairs when she heard Frannie's voice from below. "Quinn!" She peeked down the second floor railing and saw Frannie at the archway to the living room and Rachel already halfway up the stairs. "Me and Rachel were just playing Wii tennis. She's really good!

_Wii tennis_? Quinn looked to Rachel, who was smiling at her. She ignored the flutter in her abdomen. She really wasn't about kidding about the video games. Quinn briefly wondered what her father would think if he found out.

"Does Dad know about this?" she asked with a squint.

Frannie's grin widened and Quinn could hardly believe it. "Yeah! Rachel said it'd be good exercise, so he gave me the go ahead."

Quinn arched a brow and cleared her throat. "Well, you better get back to it, then." she answered. She pointed at Rachel who was already at the top of the stairs. When the fuck did she get up here? "You don't wanna get on her bad side on your first day," Quinn mock whispered.

She could hear Rachel's choking laughter a few feet from her. "Rachel?" Frannie called and they both turned to look at the tutor.

"How about a match, Quinn? I see you've got a winning streak on the scoreboard," Rachel suggested. The expression on her face was almost similar to the one when she asked Quinn to join them at the piano. It unnerved her. Any invitation from this woman might be dangerous.

Quinn laughed before she could stop herself. "It doesn't take much to beat Frannie. Sorry, Frannie."

"It's okay. Rachel said I could get better."

"Why don't you go back to practicing tennis and maybe you can beat me later, Frannie?" Rachel called out. Frannie nodded and went back inside. She turned back to Quinn. "I break every hour. Helps the brain to absorb new info. Science says so."

Quinn leaned against the railing, unaware of how relaxed she'd become. "You don't strike me as the kind to believe in science. A lot, anyway."

Rachel raised both eyebrows and she stepped closer. Quinn allowed her to. "Well, what do I strike you as?"

The blonde wasn't sure what it was, but she felt like the air between them had somehow shifted; it felt kind of heated. Quinn gulped and grabbed the railing tighter. "I don't know," she said with a shrug. There was a pause before she released her grip on the railing. She lifted the straps of her backpack higher up her shoulders and took two steps back. "Sorry, I've got homework."

"Wait, Quinn," Rachel stopped her. She brushed her hair back and made a small grimace at Quinn. "About the other night, I'm sorry I put you on the spot."

"Don't worry about it."

"I guess I assumed that you still played a little."

Quinn pasted on a mocking smile. "I don't. I told you." She went back two more steps.

"Never?"

Halfway down the hall, she swung back around and found that Rachel was directly in front of her. Despite her being taller than the older woman, their gazes were directly locked on each other. "Are you going to follow me all the way to my room?

She felt like she could cry at any second. The smell of brownies. Frannie being happy playing. Rachel raising a toast at dinner. Rachel and Frannie at the piano, creating joy. The damn piano.

All to remind her how much she'd once loved playing. With all her heart.

Writing an English essay would never be a good enough substitute.

Rachel put a hand against the wall. It was dark in the hallway. It was quiet. They were alone. Quinn took a small step back in caution. Not of Rachel but of herself.

"I'm sorry. I just wanted to say I'm sorry."

"I said don't worry about it."

Rachel lifted her hand. It hung mid-air. Her fingers were moving in the air as if to gesture something. Quinn watched her hand; watched her mouth. She waited to see what would come out. While she was waiting, she noticed the faint highlights in Rachel's hair. Her nose that seemed slightly out of proportions. Her chestnut brown eyes.

"What?" Quinn finally asked out of impatience.

The brunette's tongue flicked across her lower lip in an instance. "You never play."

Quinn narrowed her eyes. "Yes."

Rachel shook her head. "You _never _play." Quinn was glad it was dark enough here. "You, Lucy Quinn Fabray, never play," she whispered. There was a tinge of sorrow in her voice.

Quinn gulped. Her eyes felt watery. "Never," she whispered in return.

"That makes me sad."

What the hell could she say to that? It was a compliment and a judgment in a sentence. It angered her; it made her sad too. The tears were just there. Quinn turned her back to the tutor and took firm strides towards her bedroom.

"Do you want to? Ever?"

She felt like she had so few choices right now. She could laugh. She could turn back around and maybe slap the damn woman in the face. She could tell Rachel to leave her alone and be mad that she even dared to ask. Or she could stay and explain to her the complicated, emotional mechanism by which the idea of playing again became wrapped around the notion of giving in to her father and missing her grandmother and betraying her promise to herself.

She could do any of that, really.

But.

_What do you want, Quinn Fabray? Really?_

She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand but didn't look back at her.

"I don't know."

_Maybe_.

"Maybe."

* * *

How in the world did an attractive stranger managed to tear open her seams and her promises and her façade with one smile and one invitation and one question?

* * *

Quinn was nearly late to English again on Wednesday. She'd swooped into class just as the bell rang; she was the last to arrive. Miss Avery saw her and smiled, motioning her in. "That's a close one. Take a seat, Miss Fabray."

Jacob Ben Israel glanced between them for awhile before giving her a look. His signature _I-know-everything-that-happens-in-this-school_ look. She wasn't the least bit intimidated. He had given everybody that look so many times before that no one paid him any mind, knowing he was just a load of bull.

She took her seat and tried to focus. English. Santana. Puck. School. Being Miss Avery's pet. She had a good thing going until Rachel's face took a trip to her mind's eye.

A week ago, those things would have been enough. With piano playing behind her, English and everything else would have been enough. She could' have sat here, still harboring a monstrous crush on her English teacher, still being Quinn Fabray, the screw-up of the family. Nobody expected anything from her. Not that they did now, either. She was under the radar and that was how she liked it. Better to be invisible than to be another major disappointment.

She took out _Othello_ from her bag and opened it to the page where Miss Avery had stopped at the last time they had a class. She tried to focus on the words. For some reason, the words on the page all turned into musical notes in her imagination.

* * *

Quinn felt almost normal again by lunchtime. She spent second period ignoring her chemistry teacher and telling herself that whatever she wanted didn't matter now. She had already given it up five years ago and her father would never allow her near the piano again.

She had managed to convince herself that she didn't want any of it. She didn't want to go to concert halls or anything. She should be enjoying her freedom, instead of imagining herself being back in a cage.

Puck chose to eat with them this time. He dropped his jacket on the table and slid in the bench next to Quinn. "I need to be with sane people."

Quinn raised a brow and grinned teasingly. "Look who's talking," she drawled and took a big bite of her cheeseburger. She hummed in pleasure at the taste exploding in her mouth. God, Mercedes made the best cheeseburger.

"My boys would not stop bashing Super Mario and I'm done with it," Puck claimed. "Also, Tina Cohen-Chang's stalking me."

The blonde frowned at the notion. Tina Cohen-Chang was her biology lab partner. They were acquaintances. And maybe Quinn didn't know the girl that well, but she knew the Asian girl enough to know that she'd never do things like stalk people, not even Puck. She had better things to do.

Like being an ideal Asian.

"I know you consider yourself a stud or something along that line, but dear me, that's quite the delusion," Quinn told him.

"She's stalking me!" he insisted. Quinn, Santana and Brittany exchanged looks and simultaneously decided to ignore him. Puck huffed. "Oh come on!"

"Just shut the hell up, Puckerman," Santana said with an annoyed look. "Tina Cohen-Chang has a boyfriend who is definitely much hotter than you. Mike Chang. Get your facts right. You probably think she's stalking you because her Mike is on the football team with you, and naturally, she hangs around him a lot."

Quinn half-listened to their bickering as she concentrated on trying to peel her orange in one strip without breaking it apart. She could distinctly hear a few insults thrown here and there and once when she looked up; she saw that Brittany was watching her intently. She grinned. Brittany always was nice and kind of ignorant to stuff going on around her.

Puck turned to her when he gave up on getting one over Santana. "So what's going on with you?"

She grinned and wagged the orange peel in his face. "This. Bow to me."

He lowered his head and knocked it against the table surface three times. "All hail Queen Quinn," he played along.

"Rise."

"For god's sake, why am I friends with you two?" Santana exclaimed. She looked at them as if they were the biggest tragedies in the world.

Quinn's grin widened and she made smooching noises at her best friend. Santana fake gagged. They all burst out in laughter before Puck repeated his question.

"Oh yeah, did your folks get your sister a new tutor?" Santana asked.

"Yeah."

"She or he?"

"She." Quinn shrugged in pretend nonchalance. "She's…young, in comparison to Mr Ryerson. I guess that's a plus."

The Latina studied her for a long moment before realization struck her, lighting up her eyes. She ran her hand over her face and leaned closer to Quinn. "Not again," she whispered in protest. Quinn could barely fight the wince. Santana sighed. "Cute?"

Quinn fished for her phone and showed her the picture they took the night they invited Rachel over for dinner. "She looks like she's thirty," was the first thing Santana said. As if Quinn expected more. "But well, she's kind of cute, I guess."

Quinn showed it to Puck. "Oh, I'd bang that." She smacked him hard on his forearm. "What? She's 'bangable'."

"Is that a word?" Brittany asked, frowning at Puck.

"No, it's not, Britt," Santana answered.

"Cute is as cute does," Quinn said cryptically.

Her standards of attraction had always been diverse from her peers. For example, Finn Hudson was the school's virgin and sweet hunk who'd been chasing her tail since god-knows-when. She just wasn't attracted to him. Another example, Noah Puckerman was the school's sex shark. He'd sleep with anything with a vagina, and yet, she still couldn't find herself charmed by his sex appeal.

She knew she wasn't the only student in the school who realized that Miss Avery was beautiful and hot. Anyone with a brain would want her. However, Quinn was also sure that she was the only one in the school who actually discovered what exactly Miss Avery's appeal was. The same went for Rachel.

Sure, she hadn't spent a lot of time with the woman, but Rachel was something different since their first meeting. And for the life of her, Quinn Fabray couldn't stop herself from being drawn to Rachel, even if it was considered taboo and illegal.

"You have a very unhealthy fetish, Fabray."

"Look at all the fucks I give," Quinn deadpanned.

* * *

The piano was playing. It was the first thing she noticed the minute she walked in the back door. Grandpa Fred was sitting at the island with a notebook and a cup of coffee in front of him. Mercedes was sat across from him. Her father had hired the housekeeper before she was born. She basically watched Quinn grow up.

Quinn threw her bag on top of the island and sat next to Grandpa Fred. She leaned towards him to hug him and kiss him on the cheek. Mercedes watched them endearingly. Sometimes, Quinn thought that the three of them were the only sane ones in the family. The only ones who weren't so obsessed with popularity and talent and all that crap.

"I'm making a grocery list," Mercedes said. "Anything you need? Sam's picking me up in a few minutes."

Sam was Mercedes' husband. They were high school sweethearts. Quinn had met him a few times and she would still be startled every time she saw him because he and Grandpa Fred looked so much alike. They couldn't see the similarities but Quinn swore to god that it was all there.

"Hershey's Kisses. We're out of them. Oh, bacon!" Quinn basically squealed.

Mercedes chuckled and jotted it down in her notebook with her fountain pen. Mercedes never used ballpoint or gel pen. She'd always been attached to this fountain pen. She claimed that it was a wedding gift from Sam. There was a whole cupboard in the kitchen completely dedicated to Mercedes' ridiculously wide range of inks.

Once upon a time, Quinn had stolen a bottle of ink and gone upstairs with it. She'd dipped her fingers in the bottle of ink and made abstract art in her textbooks with it. The ink refused to wash off her hands for a couple of days. Mercedes didn't get her in trouble for it. Instead, she helped Quinn hide her dirty hands, which only made her love the housekeeper even more.

"So what do you think about the new tutor so far?" Fred asked.

Quinn fidgeted with her fingers. "I don't know. I mean, Frannie likes her. I'm happy about that."

"Hmm."

"What about you?"

Fred grinned and brushed his hand over his whitening head. "I've had a couple of talks with her. She seems very…open and carefree. I think that's what your sister needs at the moment. I like her."

"Rachel Berry is an extraordinary piano tutor and friend. Unlike Ryerson, she's very relaxed and bright. Your sister definitely _needs_ that," Mercedes interjected. "Trust me, I've gotten to know her in a way that only employees of the household can."

"Mercedes," Fred started.

"Nobody thinks you're just 'an employee' in this household," Quinn finished for him.

Mercedes smiled. "Okay. The point is I admire her. And I have a feeling she and I can be great friends and I look forward to that." She tore the grocery list off the notebook. "That said, Rachel Berry is good for Frannie Fabray. And I'll tell you this: your grandmother would have adored the hell out of that woman."

"What makes you say so?" Fred asked in curiosity. Quinn suspected she was right.

"Spend more time with the tutor, Fred. You'll find that your wife and Rachel would have been kindred spirits."

It was a scary thought. Quinn loved her grandmother. She couldn't afford to fall for her sister's piano tutor because she reminded Quinn of her grandmother. Especially considering Rachel was ten years her senior.

There was also the fact that Rachel Berry had somehow made her head pop out of the turtle shell she was hiding in.

* * *

For the rest of the week, Quinn made it a point to not be home whenever Rachel was around. Mercedes was a good source who also didn't question her motives. Quinn had asked Mercedes to report Rachel's movements within the house every day.

If Rachel was around, she would head to the Lima Bean, pick up two drinks and two chicken pies, and visit Miss Avery's room. She would give the teacher her share of goodies, and sit in the room doing her homework while the teacher did her own work. It was serene and peaceful and she had the chance to think things through without anyone interrupting. If she didn't go to Miss Avery's, she would just crash at Santana or Brittany's place until she got the clear that Rachel had left.

Quinn didn't want to hear any invitations to play whatever, any follow-up questions or how tragic it was that she never played.

Quinn's feet pounded rapidly on the trail up the hill. Her earphones were plugged as Lady Gaga blasted in her ears. Breathe in. Breathe out. Run. Next to English and that other thing, running was her favorite pastime. It made her sweat. It kept her in shape. It exhausted her.

Exhaustion would make her too tired to think about things.

To her right, the sunlight streamed in lines through the tiny spaces between the tree leaves. Jagged. Irregular. Mesmerizing. It was beautiful.

It had been too long since she had that thought; the feelings of joy and things being right or at least okay, because if your own life wasn't perfect – and god knew what a fucking mess hers was – there was this _world_.

Green. Nature. Fresh. Lively. Passive. Free.

And she was living in it. She was away from parents and classes and pressure. Life, in general.

Quinn diverted from the trail and ran right into the woods. She knew where she was going. She'd marked the trees. She knew. She ran till she reached her destination. It was a small space, just after the trees cleared. There was a cliff standing out with a view of Lima, Ohio. She grinned.

She proceeded to sit on the edge of the cliff, one leg pulled up and the other hanging over the edge, and took a refreshing breath. It was thrilling and fun. And it relaxed her.

She closed her eyes and listened. The rapid beating of her heart. The wind. The leaves. They belonged to her and her only. She laughed for no reason.

She wanted to grab whatever it was she was feeling right now and absorb it right down to her bones. Yet it always seemed beyond her grasp. Sometimes only by little, like right now. The thinnest membrane preventing her from getting it.

She should be allowed at least a tiny bit of joy, right? For at least five minutes. She deserved that. Or maybe she didn't. It wasn't too much to ask, though. To be able to feel like this.

To hold on to that membrane and feel alive.

* * *

Rachel was on her way out when Quinn returned home from her run. She had spent a little too much time at the cliff lavishing in the joy, and now she was 15 minutes late. Her folks were probably worried sick.

And yet, she found herself stopping in her run and standing in front of Rachel who was bundled up in a fluffy jacket and a pair of knee-high boots.

"Hey," Quinn greeted lamely.

Rachel looked her over and her lips quirked up. "Good run?"

"Pretty much."

Oddly enough, instead of feeling uncomfortable, Quinn felt warm and _especially _comfortable as Rachel gazed at her for the next five seconds or twenty minutes. Quinn didn't know. She wasn't paying attention to the ticking second hand. She was just silently pleading for Rachel to say or do something.

"Is this your way of…compensating for your longing to play?" Rachel asked.

Quinn blinked. Okay, where in the world was this woman's couth? "Whatever happened to your couth?"

Rachel smirked. "I threw them away in favor of you." That almost sounded flirtatious and Quinn was certain she didn't mean it that way. But that damn smirk remained on the brunette's face. "So, is it?"

The former pianist rolled her eyes and sidestepped. "I don't know who you think you are, Rachel," Quinn said, turning around to face her again. "But I'm not some experiment or something like that. I know I was kind of a big deal back then and maybe you thought you'd try bringing me back on stage and take the credit for doing it. It's not going to work."

"Quinn –"

"No," she interjected sternly. "That part of my life is done. Gone. Finished. It's over. I made that choice and I can't go back."

"What's stopping you?" Rachel asked. Quinn's breath left her lungs in a whoosh. Rachel nodded after a couple of minutes of silence on her side. "Look, you have misunderstood my intentions. I may have once been a fame hungry musician, but I'm not that person anymore."

Quinn frowned in confusion.

"I've seen you perform. Live, no less. You were very talented. More talented than your sister is, dare I say. You have it in your blood. You understand music. You understand the language of playing. You're a _natural_ and no matter how much you try to get past that, it's never going to disappear. You're stuck with it forever."

"Stop."

"It makes me sad that you're willing to throw that away just like that. I don't know what happened and you don't have to tell me. But I'm not…I can't just allow you to continue this ignorance of your gift when I have a chance to bring you back to it. Just for the sake of playing it for _yourself_. Just for the sake of enjoying the joy of creating it."

Rachel was saying all the right things and all the wrong things at the same time. Quinn didn't even realize she was crying until the woman reached out to wipe the tears away. She had to fight the urge to lunge forward and kiss her. So she kept quiet.

Rachel took a step back and Quinn nearly whined at the loss of contact. "I know I've stepped over the line and you have the right to complain to your parents and get me fired. But I still hope you'll think about what I said. You're more than welcome to talk to me." Rachel paused and Quinn watched the woman stare at her for a long while. "As friends," she breathed.

Quinn's frown deepened. Rachel bade goodbye and drove out of their driveway in the span of a few short minutes. Quinn was left staring at the gravel driveway and wondering what in the hell Rachel had meant by that.

Then it came to her.

Oh.

_Oh._

She wasn't the only one who had more than appropriate thoughts about the other.

Crap.

_"Lucy, sweetheart, sometimes you have to not care about your parents or your tutor's opinions. Sometimes, you gotta stay in the room and just play. Ignore everything. Only the music. And you."_

* * *

**so guys, i have midterms next week and i'm kind of buried deep in studying. i'll try my best to find some time to write the next chapter. but it probably won't be up until a month later. i'm just giving you a head's up and i hope you'll be patient with me.**

**and hey guys, remember that Dianna is Lea's girl and she's also one of the most beautiful people Lea knows!**

**P.S. leave some reviews please?**


	4. Chapter 4

**hey guys! midterms are over! but the trial exams and the finals aren't! good lord i have a pretty six months ahead of me. never mind that now, it's chapter 4! yay! also, thanks to a kind reviewer who reminded me, i just want to tell you that this fic is actually inspired by a novel i read titled The Lucy Variations. it's a very good book. but i've also changed quite a number of things here so :). oh, i have to thank my wonderful beta reader, Stephanie, for doing this!**

**response to reviews**

**Charlieboy: it's what you get when you're raised in the Fabray family.**

**ThroughtheL00kingGlass: more is here! morer to come! haha**

**gllover22: so far, you'll get to see more of Quinn's backstory here.**

**LaurenKnight13: she's slowly getting to it and learning to get over whatever happened in the past.**

**now, read, ponder and enjoy :)**

* * *

Quinn would have been late if it weren't for Mercedes waking her up, kind soul that she was. Despite that, her family was already seated at the dining table waiting when she arrived. She finished pulling her hair into a neat ponytail and swept her fringe back before taking her seat next to Grandpa Fred. She bade good morning to everyone.

"So, Frannie, what have you and Rachel been working on?" Russell asked from the head of the table.

Frannie looked at her father and then to Quinn. "Um…Bach. We're working on Bach. I had been practicing it with Mr Ryerson. Rachel thought it was a good starting point."

"Is that what you plan on playing at the showcase?" Judy asked. Frannie shrugged. Judy looked to Russell and cleared her throat. "Well, shouldn't you be doing something you've known longer? I think it would decrease the chances of you making a mistake."

Quinn rolled her eyes but kept quiet. Her father saw it anyway. "You've got something to say, Quinn?"

She looked up from her breakfast and licked her lips. "Making a mistake," she quoted. "That's just your way of saying 'messing things up'."

Judy released a frustrated sigh. "We just think that it may be a little too intricate. And Frannie is just started learning it. Remember how you –"

"Yeah, I do," Quinn interjected quickly. She had been eight. She was playing Bach, and had gotten confused in the middle of it. She was lucky, and managed to pull it off and place at the competition. "And you guys really need to stop talking as if Frannie isn't sitting right here."

"Your father and I are just wondering if it's a little too ambitious. A bit dry. It's a showcase, not a competition," her mother addressed Frannie.

"That's funny coming from you two," Fred commented as he lifted his glass of water to his smirking lips. Quinn shot her grandfather an appreciative look. He winked at her mischievously. He put down the glass. "You said it yourself. It's a showcase, not a competition. Let Frannie do what she does best. If she wants to play Bach, whoever that is, let her play. It's a _showcase_, after all."

"That word is becoming a little too redundant for breakfast conversation," Russell said in annoyance.

Frannie's eyebrow twitched and Quinn could hear her mumbling, "You're the one who brought it up."

"However, we wouldn't want to let down all the important people at the showcase though, would we? What's the point of playing if you can't be perfect every single time? Isn't that what you always say, Daddy?"

"People, this room is pungent with useless arguments. I came here early this morning to make you breakfast. Don't you dare let it go to waste with me in the room," Mercedes interrupted from the kitchen doorway. "You can talk about all the useless piano stuff when you're done eating, but not now. You guy have to go to work and school. Eat up!"

* * *

Quinn invited Santana to run with her after school. Brittany was visiting some relatives in Florida, so she wasn't around. It was just the two of them. They blasted some David Guetta on the drive to the place where she usually ran.

It was sort of a forest, but not really a forest. There were a lot of trees. And birds. And squirrels. And there was probably a snake or two. Quinn had no idea and she didn't want to find out. Barely anybody come here to run because they deemed it too dangerous. She came here to run because it was dangerous. She wanted the adrenaline rush. When she heard somebody talking about it one day at Lima Bean a couple years ago, she immediately packed her things up and found the place. Since then, she came for a run every time she was free.

Quinn tightened the laces of her shoes and put on her cap. Santana spat the gum she was chewing and stood akimbo as she checked the not-forest out. A clear trail split the trees in the middle. She released a breathy chuckle and nodded, impressed.

"This is so cool," Santana muttered.

Quinn grinned. "Right?"

"Wanna race?" Santana asked, smirking at the blonde.

Quinn glanced at the trail and then back at Santana. She raised a brow and smirked in return. "Are you sure you're not gonna get lost?"

Santana shrugged. "There's cell service here, right?" Quinn nodded. "We're all set then."

"Okay," Quinn answered and they stood at the start of the trail. They stretched and got in position. "One, two…" And she took off.

"Lucy Quinn Fabray, you fucking bitch!" She could hear Santana yelled out loud behind her.

She laughed, running at full speed. When Santana was her competition, she couldn't allow herself to slack off. If Brittany was here, she would win due to her long legs dancer's agility, but they never could figure out who was the better runner between herself and Santana. Whenever they ran, they would either tie or trade off winning every other race.

It was annoying.

Quinn adjusted her cap and decided to rev it up when she heard the rapid pounding of Santana's footfalls just behind her. She laughed again when she heard her best friend curse at her with a bunch of Spanish expletives that she couldn't understand.

Quinn enjoyed this. She enjoyed spending alone time with her best friend. Without boys chasing her tail. Without homework. Without people gossiping. Without Brittany. It wasn't that she didn't like Brittany. She loved Brittany. But sometimes, she just wanted to spend time alone with her childhood best friend who'd been there with her ever since she was a toddler.

She slowed down slightly, allowing Santana to catch up before charging ahead, giggling in delight for having fooled Santana.

Her heart pounded in her chest; the beats reverberated in her ear. Sweat dripped down her skin. She was panting. She felt so relaxed and delighted. It was uplifting. She'd been craving company. She'd been yearning for a person to talk to, and she felt like she could finally talk it out today. With her best friend.

In no time, she reached the end of the trail. She stopped in the clearing at the end of the trail, which was occupied by wooden tables and benches. Santana caught up to her and she leaned against a tree trunk to catch her breath.

When she finally had enough air in her lungs, she surveyed the space and raised her eyebrows. "Impressive," she said, her voice a little weak. Quinn strolled towards one of the tables and gestured for Santana to follow her. They sat down opposite one another and took swigs from their water bottles. "So how come you're hanging out with me today instead of Miss Avery?"

"Because I miss you, silly." Quinn put the lid on her bottle and looked up at the clear sky. "Also, I think I'm getting over her."

Santana couldn't help but grin at the confession. She'd always been worried about Quinn. She was too smart; too smart to fall in love with people her own age because god knew people their own age were nowhere near as smart as Quinn. Quinn wore sadness like clothes. Santana never mentioned it but she could see it. She had often tried to stay by Quinn's side in her own way.

"The magic's gone?" she queried, leaning on her elbows.

Quinn shrugged and looked at her friend. "I guess." She had been doing her English homework the night before, and realized that level of fondness was gone. When she thought about Miss Avery, it just wasn't that feeling anymore. She was still fond of the teacher, but just not in _that_ way. She didn't know how it happened.

Or maybe she did and she just didn't want to admit it.

"Good for you," Santana said. "I heard through the grapevine that Miss Skye Avery has a girlfriend."

Quinn stared at her, flabbergasted. Then she released a choking laugh and buried her face in her hands. "Oh my god, I make such _gay_ friends!" she exclaimed, her voice muffled by her palm. She drew back to see Santana laughing at her. "Seriously, am I a gay magnet or something?"

"Well, you are attractive. Like if it wasn't for Britts, I'd be all over you," Santana said with a wiggle of her eyebrows. Quinn laughed in appreciation. "So, any idea how this thing you had for her is over?"

Quinn reached back to pull gently on her ponytail and leaned forward. She shrugged and shook her head.

However, Santana Lopez was her best friend. She would know even if Quinn was denying it. She sighed and looked Quinn in the eyes. "Here's an idea: someone below thirty, someone who hasn't graduated college."

Quinn winced and her fingers twitched. "Meh," she drawled. "No offers." The people at school were too dull. Her brain was filled up with poems and music and notes while theirs were filled with football and cheerleading and stupid crap. She couldn't find herself attracted to them. The only boyfriend she ever had had been back in eighth grade. And their first kiss wasn't even that great.

"McKinley boys are scared of you."

Quinn narrowed her eyes. "Tell me why I would date people who are scared of me."

"Okay, maybe scared isn't the right word. They're not familiar with you. I mean, you're basically an introvert. You don't talk to people. You only hang out with me and Britts and Puck and Finn. They don't even understand why Puck and Finn hang out with you. We eat alone and you don't join any extracurricular activities."

Quinn rolled her eyes and dropped her head on her arms across the table. Santana grabbed on one of her hands and played with her fingers. "My whole life had been an extracurricular. I'm tired."

Santana's heart ached at Quinn's words. She leaned down to kiss Quinn's hair and patted her back. "I know," she whispered. She was hesitant about her following words but she took the plunge anyway. "It's been five years, Quinn," Santana voiced. She rubbed Quinn's back when she felt her tense beneath her fingers. "Shouldn't you have let it go by now? Embrace your freedom, maybe?"

Quinn mulled over Santana's question for many long minutes. "Russell Fabray is my cage," she said, so softly that Santana had to struggle to hear her.

"No," Santana disagreed. She brushed Quinn's back and stared down at her. Quinn almost wanted to yell at her to not look at her like that; like she was damaged; like she was just looking for someone to save her.

Maybe she was.

"_You_ are your own cage." Quinn pushed herself upright abruptly and her eyes were glaring at her twitching fingers. "You need to get out, Quinn. By yourself. I can help you. Mercedes can help you." She paused but kept on. "Hell, even that new tutor of Frannie can help you. But we can't help you if you won't so much as make an effort."

"You know, I used to hear people tell me how they heard my sister on the radio last night and how I should tell her to keep at it and blah blah blah and I just –"

"They might as well have just said it, right?" Santana cut her off, raising her brows knowingly. "_Tell her to keep at it, and not quit, unlike some people_," she mimicked in a wheezy voice, tearing a giggle from her best friend.

Quinn sobered and nodded. "Yeah," she whispered. "I think I wanna play." If Santana had two floppy dog ears, they would have been perked upright in that instant.

"Play…as in?"

"The piano."

Santana watched her and then said, "Does this sudden realization have anything to do with a certain older, attractive, female, piano playing _homo sapien_?"

Quinn rolled her eyes and reached out to lightly smack Santana's arm. "Okay yeah, you're _totally_ not a geek."

Santana fake gasped. "I certainly am not."

"Uh huh."

"Whatever. So, does it?"

Quinn tugged on the bill of her cap and pursed her lips. "I guess she plays a part in it. But…I think over the past eight years, the urge to play has always been there, but I just had it…buried deep down in the back of my mind." She flicked her nose. "I don't wanna compete, per se. I want to play. I want to sit down and play for myself and maybe sometimes for the people close to me. And maybe someday, I can compose or something."

"Wow, who is this woman? I wanna meet her." Quinn gave her a look. "No, seriously. She's made quite an impact on you. And you haven't even known her for long."

Rachel's face that night on the porch flashed through Quinn's mind. Her stomach flipped a little at the reminder of what she learned that night. She fought the shudder soaring through her body and maintained her composure.

"Please don't judge me for being attracted to her."

"Who am I to judge you?" Quinn smiled gratefully. "Well, whatever you want, I'll be here for you." She stood up and stretched her arms over her head. "But I'd miss you if you leave. It's been awesome having you here with me for the last eight years. Don't leave me again."

Quinn grinned and stood up as well. "Never."

They raced back to the starting point.

* * *

Russell and Judy had to leave for a business conference in Hawaii in two days. They dropped the news on them at dinner. Quinn felt guilty for feeling elated at that. Thanksgiving was right around the corner, and she should be unhappy that they wouldn't be spending it as a whole family. Instead, the unhappiness didn't even make a quick visit.

"Can I invite Santana and the others for a sleepover?" Quinn asked before her parents left for the airport.

"I don't see why not. Just don't make a mess. And don't create trouble for Grandpa and Mercedes," Russell ordered. Quinn nodded in promise. Her father surprised her then when he put down his briefcase on the threshold and turned back to wrap her in a tight embrace. "Take care of yourself. And I love you."

Quinn's eyes watered. Well, hello, the-unhappiness-of-not-having-parents-for-Thanksgiving, aren't you a late little shit? She responded to the hug by tightening her arms around her father's torso. "I love you too."

And then they left.

She told Grandpa Fred and Frannie that she was going to do some homework and went up to her room. She stuck her headphones into her ears and put her playlist on shuffle and went on to work. She watched though her bedroom window as Rachel's car drove up the driveway. She stopped writing, the tip of her ballpoint poised over the paper.

Rachel got out of the car. She had half of her hair tied up in a ponytail and the rest falling down in curls over her shoulders. She made a move to sweep a lock of hair back. Quinn's throat went dry when she saw the short skirt the tutor was wearing, which displayed her legs in full view. She was caught in her leering when Rachel looked up and saw her.

_As friends_, Rachel's voice echoed in her head.

"As friends," Quinn muttered.

Rachel's eyes seemed to have darkened as they held each other's gazes, and Quinn was sure her eyes were no different. She clenched her thighs together and managed to smile at the tutor, unsure if she could see it. Quinn could only assume she had when Rachel smiled with a wave of her hand and proceeded up the driveway to the front door.

Quinn couldn't hear the bell because she had her headphones in. She closed her eyes and took a few deep calming breaths. She wouldn't allow a prolonged eye contact disturb her focus. She had homework. She needed to pass her year. She needed to graduate and go somewhere that was not Lima, Ohio.

She definitely did not need a raging attraction to a very beautiful person who was much older than her.

She breathed out harshly and opened her eyes. She rid all thoughts of Rachel from her mind and tried to focus on her homework as hard as she could.

Two hours later – normally it would've taken her only one but she was distracted – she found herself scooping handful of chips into her mouth in the kitchen. Mercedes was probably gallivanting in the cellar below doing whatever it was she usually did.

She giggled as she watched Mr. Bean stick his head inside a turkey on the television set in the kitchen.

"I never would have thought you'd be the kind to watch Rowan Atkinson."

Quinn yelped, fragments of chips flying out of her mouth, and turned around on her stool to see Rachel standing at the entrance to the kitchen with an amused smile tugging on her lips. She put a steadying hand on her chest and her breathing slowed down. She couldn't resist the urge to smile at Rachel. "You'd be surprised."

The brunette hummed but didn't move from under the arch. Quinn stayed on her stool, half her hand in the bag of chips. Time didn't pause. Pre-recorded laughter emitted from the television set. Mercedes was belting out some notes in the cellar. But somehow, it still felt like they were all alone.

"So how are you?"

Quinn shoved a couple of chips in her mouth and laughed with her mouth closed when Rachel rolled her eyes and moved into the room. "I'm okay," she said once she swallowed the chewed up chips.

Rachel tipped her brows and went to the fridge to grab a bottle of water. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah," Quinn replied with a smile. "Considering what's happened lately."

Rachel screwed the lid of the bottle and frowned at her. "And what's happened lately?"

She looked into the older woman's eyes and didn't hesitate when she said, "You." She figured they both knew of each other's feelings – however inappropriate – for each other. Why not just go for it? Rachel's expression froze. "My sister's piano tutor died and you came along and it messes my brain up in so many ways."

Something on Rachel's face shifted and her brows twitched. "I could say the same about you." Quinn's breath stopped for like a second and then Rachel took a napkin from the stack and took out a pen. Quinn frowned. Where did that even come from? Rachel scribbled something on the napkin and slid it across the island towards Quinn. "If you need to talk, call or text me. Because friends do that."

Quinn hummed, reading over the numbers scribbled across the paper.

"As long as you aren't driving," Rachel added.

"I'm confused," Quinn joked. "I'm not suicidal." They laughed mildly and Quinn held the paper up in the air. "And I will keep this in mind."

"Good." Rachel looked like she was about to say something else when Mercedes came up from the wine cellar. "Hey, Miss Jones. I better go. I'm on a payroll." She winked surreptitiously at Quinn and walked away.

The blonde smirked and tucked the paper into her jacket pocket, making a note to take it out later so she wouldn't wash it in the laundry. Then she turned back to the TV and fed herself more chips.

* * *

It had been more than a week since Rachel gave her number and Quinn had yet to call her. She wanted to. Every day. She would stare at the numbers for hours and still couldn't bring herself to call. Rachel said to talk to her when she was ready. And Quinn may want to play, but that didn't mean she was ready.

Thanksgiving was happening in two days. Quinn had invited Santana and Brittany and their families. Frannie had decided to invite to Rachel without consulting Grandpa Fred, not that Grandpa Fred would say no.

These days, she'd been spending her free afternoons sitting outside the music room, listening to her sister play. Thinking. Wondering. Deciding. Fantasizing. Rachel had caught her out there a few times but she didn't say a word. All she did was smile and nod in greeting before going back in. Quinn would listen to Rachel guide Frannie through her playing, unlike Mr. Ryerson's method of instruction only.

Quinn had more often than not been impressed with Rachel's method of teaching.

"No, don't do that. Don't just think about the steps. Think about the notes, the tone, the _music_. Learn to understand the expression. Mess it up a little. There's nothing wrong with that. As long as you _comprehend_."

Perhaps that was what Frannie needed.

Perhaps that would have been what _she_ needed. Maybe she wouldn't have left the stage so easily if she had a teacher like Rachel. Or she might have come back even if her father had told her that it was the end in a definite tone. Perhaps she just needed the push that Rachel was offering right now.

* * *

She didn't know what did it. She had been walking across the street with Santana and Puck and she saw the grand piano sitting at the window of the music store and she had an epiphany. She went home and pulled the familiar napkin down from her bulletin board.

_Ready to talk. Friend to friend._

She hit _send_ before she could regret it.

* * *

Frannie came into her room with another book in hand and Quinn nodded in agreement before she even asked the question. So Frannie flopped down onto her bed and started reading. Quinn went back to her third essay of the English assignment.

It'd been five hours since Quinn had texted Rachel. Yes, she counted. She felt like a lovesick fool waiting for a boy to just _answer_ her. If only it was that simple though. Quinn took glances at her iPhone as she typed on her computer. She was a natural touch typist so she barely had to look at her keyboard while she did it.

Santana had always complained about it.

Quinn was almost done with it when her phone chimed and she scrambled for it across the desk. She could feel Frannie's eyes burning into her back. Quinn ignored it and opened the text.

_Wanna meet for coffee?_

She blinked. She'd expected a reply but she didn't expect _that _kind of reply. She didn't know if she should be excited or disturbed by the fact that Rachel wanted to meet her so late at night. She settled on being excited. She checked the clock sitting on her bedside table. Gosh, it was late. Though it was Saturday the next day so there would be no school.

She propped one of her elbows on the desk, her forehead supported by her hand. She considered her choices. Would it be inappropriate if she agreed? But they wouldn't be taking things to that level. They'd just be friends, talking about her confusion and her perplexity. That wouldn't be illegal, would it?

"Who's that?" Frannie finally asked, startling Quinn.

She'd almost forgotten that her sister was in her room. "Um…" Quinn stammered. "Rachel," she admitted.

Frannie frowned. "Why is she texting you?"

"Oh, I just had to talk to her…about something," Quinn evaded, flipping her phone in her hand nervously.

Frannie sat up in bed and surveyed her for a moment. Quinn squirmed in her seat. "It's about playing, isn't it?" Frannie said. Quinn's eyes widened. "Come on, Quinn, I know I've been kind of oblivious and secluded with practicing. And I know that everybody thinks that you're kind of like the older sister instead of me because of the way you take care of me and how I stay at home all the time."

"Frannie," Quinn protested.

The older Fabray shook her head with a sad smile. "I mean, I could've been out of here already and probably studying in Stanford if it wasn't for Daddy and Mom pressuring me into playing for this final showcase. I'm nineteen, for god's sake."

Quinn felt the guilt eating at her insides and she released a shuddering sigh. "I'm sorry," she apologized.

Frannie looked at her for a second and made a dismissing motion with her hand. "It's okay. I understand what you were going through. I think I would have done the same if I were you."

"Still."

"I think it's good," Frannie said with a nod. "You've been so lonely and so sad for eight years. I know you have friends and stuff, but I know you. And honestly, I had no idea how to help you. So I'm glad that Rachel might be able to help."

"You won't mind?"

Frannie chuckled and removed herself from the bed. She moved towards Quinn and wrapped Quinn in an awkward embrace. "Why would I? You're my sister. I love you."

"Thank you."

* * *

Rachel was already sitting in a secluded corner in Lima Bean when Quinn came in, wrapped up in a coat and scarf and her hands covered in mittens. It was cold outside. She waved at Rachel and went to the counter to make her order. When her drink was ready, she took it and headed towards Rachel.

"Hi," she greeted.

"You don't have curfew, do you?" was the first thing Rachel said.

"Shouldn't you have asked that before you invited me out for this drink?"

"I was anxious," Rachel argued.

Quinn cocked a brow and drank. "So what we were talking about…you know?" she drifted off.

Rachel smiled in amusement. "Yes, what we were talking about. The thing. On the stairs. In the kitchen. I'm following." Her eyes were twinkling. "Proceed."

Quinn wondered momentarily why she trusted Rachel. She just did, she guessed. "This is confidential, okay? You can't tell anyone. Frannie knows that I'm talking to you but you can't tell her anything that we talk about."

"Cross my heart," Rachel made a move of crossing her heart.

Quinn took a deep breath and drank more. "My grandmother died."

"I'm sorry."

"No," Quinn said and closed her eyes. She opened them again a moment later. "_My grandmother died_." Rachel blinked at her rapidly before it dawned on her, her mouth forming into an 'O'. "I have no idea how my father did it." She could see the confusion in Rachel's eyes. "Eight years ago, there was a competition in Chicago. And it was important. My grandmother was sick. She had lung cancer, which runs in my family. My mom stayed behind while Gramps and Daddy came with me."

Quinn still remembered vividly. How she'd reluctantly left Grammy's bedside to board the plane. She remembered how her father had snapped at her to get off her ass already because she wouldn't leave her grandmother. She remembered how her father wouldn't let her talk to Grammy on the phone and how he silenced Gramps with a glare when he looked ready to argue.

"They wouldn't let me talk to her. They told me she was okay and I believed them. Until the morning of the competition and I was sitting in front of the stage. I was up next, and Gramps came up next to me and knelt down. His eyes were red with tears." Quinn was tearing up and her throat felt clogged but she continued. "Grammy was in the ICU. There was something about sepsis and pneumonia and crap that I didn't understand, and I was about to go up and I felt like I was ready to break down because my grandmother was my frame and support in this whole mess because my parents were – and are – overachievers."

"Quinn, calm down," Rachel interrupted. "It's okay."

Quinn looked into Rachel's calm brown eyes and felt its effect on her. Her breathing slowed and she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "And then I went up. My mind was blank white. There was nothing except for the fact that my grandmother was _dying_."

_Good girl_. Her father had whispered the phrase when she was walking up the stairs to the piano on the stage.

"I sat on the bench, my fingers on the keys, but all I could hear was my grandmother's voice in my head. And then I looked at my father and I remembered thinking how could a man could be so calm and not weeping when his own mother was dying. Great-grand uncle Oliver bought the piano and didn't get to play it. Lucy Quinn Fabray had to win a competition and couldn't say goodbye to her grandmother."

There was a momentary pause as she reminisced to eight years ago. Rachel watched her calmly and cautiously.

"I thought I could either stay there and not make a scene and play. Or I could make waves. Big ones. And then I saw how my hands didn't seem to belong to me anymore. They belonged to my father. And I wasn't going to play because I enjoyed it. I was going to play because my father was an overachiever. So I decided to do something for myself."

"You stood up and you walked out and it all ended there."

Quinn was quiet and then she inclined her head. "And it all ended there," she repeated.

"Quinn, I'm so sorry."

"My dad called me a self-entitled brat," she said with a humorless chuckle. "And he said in a very resolute tone that I had made my decision and it wasn't going to change. Ever. That's how I ended up quitting the piano."

"Quinn," Rachel called. She waited until Quinn met her eyes. "It's understandable. Your grandmother was the closest to you in your family and to have someone do that to you and omit the truth from you, it's enraging and devastating. You didn't get to say goodbye to your grandmother. And you're allowed to regret it. But you can't let it take over your life."

"I missed playing. I missed making music with my bare hands." Rachel smiled at Quinn's words. "I don't wanna be perfect or anything. I don't wanna compete. I just want to play the piano and feel it again. Maybe I'll have a future in music. But for now, I just want to play."

"You don't have to be perfect."

Quinn scoffed. "Tell that to my father."

"Why are we talking about him again?"

"Oops," Quinn said with an apologetic smile. "All I'm saying is…I think you can help me. Not as a tutor like you are to Frannie. I don't know. I saw a grand piano and I texted you. I guess it's kind of a half-baked idea."

"Sounds pretty simple to me."

"Does it?"

"When I told you we can talk as friends, it's not because I love the sound of my voice. Though I admit it's pretty amazing." Quinn rolled her eyes and Rachel grinned. "You need a friend who gets it. And I want to be that friend."

Sincerity. Trust. That's what Quinn saw on Rachel's face.

"And if something more happens to happen in the future, then we just have to go with the flow."

Quinn's eyes bulged and she coughed. "You're thirty!"

"Twenty-nine," Rachel corrected.

"I'm seventeen!" Quinn said.

"Quinn." The blonde realized she loved the way Rachel said her name. The inflection and all. Shit. "This is the 21st century. It's turned into regularity."

"You do know this is kind of inappropriate, right? And my family would kill you if _it _happens."

Rachel smirked. "Your family adores me."

Quinn hummed and narrowed her eyes teasingly. "Some of them are still holding their judgment of you."

"I bet I'm on one of their payroll."

"You bet."

"I think I can handle it."

"Let's just quit while we're ahead, yeah?"

"That's what I was gonna say."

Quinn stood up and Rachel mirrored her movement. Quinn shrugged on her coat and stood outside next to Rachel. They drank in silence and watched the occasional pedestrian walking across the streets and along the sidewalk.

Quinn took a look at her watch and found that it was half past midnight already.

"I gotta go."

Rachel nodded. "Okay."

Quinn smiled at her. "Thank you."

"Anytime."

Oddly enough, Quinn really meant it. And Quinn knew Rachel meant it as well.

"_Lucy sweetheart, I'm gonna be gone someday. And you're going to have to go through this journey by yourself. But I promise you, sweetheart, that one day, you'll find a person who will be your best friend and your lover and everything else. When you do, know that I will be so happy for you."_

* * *

**there, there. it's a slow burn. do tell me if you're happy with this chapter so far. i'll get right on to the next one! **


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